Sunday, January 27, 2013
It's that time of the year. It's cold, the roads are Not yet muddy, but rather, are slippery wet, or slippery ice.
And our State Slogan, "The Way Life Should Be,"flings itself into your face with a
HAW, HAW, HAW….
Still, with grit and determination ( and a strong insurance policy), one can Heigh He, Heigh Ho the winter and ride on, ride forever…..
Friday, January 18, 2013
We just don't believe in tempting fate.
This is my purse…
It's real small. About 3 inches square when it's drawstring is not pulled tight - which it always is. Inside live my two Zuni fetishes:
They live snuggled deep within my pouch, safely in my left back pocket. They have done so for many years and many trips upon the sea.
This one has lived with me so long, that it has gathered a grainy mottled look. And somewhere along the way something hit it (me too) and snapped it in two. It is a Bear, which symbolizes strength, and the inner power to perceive one's present circumstances - which is a very good thing when you're 700 miles from the nearest anything and all hell is breaking loose.
This one, although it's hard to see, is a Beaver, which symbolizes a progressive builder, one who promotes family unity - a necessary skill when one is the eldest of the entire immigrant, strong-willed, I know better than you, you don't know nothing, I'm telling!!! family that sailed into New York City.
This is the flag of Hydra
Pronounced eeeeee dra.
It commemorates the Battle for Greek independence from the Turkish Ottoman Empire, which was lead by the sailors of Hydra, and lead to Greece's independence. It symbolizes (to me) a "can do" and "never say die" attitude. It always flies on any ship I'm sailing.
This is the flag of Mylasia. I've always liked the flag. To me it has just the right blend of colors, items, symbols - you name it.
The true story goes like this: The guy bought a boat in Annapolis, and needed to get it to St. Thomas. I said I'd do it. Before we could get out, the weather turned bad and the weatherman predicted doom and gloom. Told the owner, "sorry, can't go now." The owner liked to have died. He needed that boat down there or else…. He begged, he pleaded, he started throwing money. So, I named a figure that no one in their right mind would pay. Silly me. He wrote a check on the spot and promised a bonus if we could break the standard trip time.
So, we hoisted the flag and sailed. And the weather got bad, and badder and more bad, until the weatherman had to confess that the storm had unexpectedly turned into a hurricane.
Five days later, we limped into Bermuda, sans our water - one of the hoses snap due to the twisting of the hull), sans our jib - the roller furling couldn't handle the wind and the sail flogged itself to death, and sans one flag of Mylasia.
Sailors aren't superstitious. Sailors are just smart enough to realize that some things need to come aboard to both show what can happen, and what can happen if you don't have the right stuff on board.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Normal for a state that gets between 65 and 95-inches a winter.
Clearly, this is a No-Scootering Day.
It's also a cold day. So, in honor of the weather, I threw on a shirt to remind me of other days when the cold should have kept one home, but didn't.
Come to think of it, that was even at night. Not too swift am I at times.
Some good did come from the snow: picturesque winter scenes….
Still, with no riding in sight, what's a good Italian to do?
Well, for starters….
Turn on the music (with 4,708 pieces on my iPod, who needs radio).
Fire-up the griddle, beat the eggs, add the milk, toss in the vanilla, warm honey and cinnamon…..
Set the table, and call out in a loud voice….
Cara Mia, venite a mangiare la prima colazione.
And she did, and we did.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
It's 6:29:19 AM Eastern Standard Time.
It's been snowing for ten minutes or so, and already the streets and cars host a mantle of grainy white.
By 9:03:11 Eastern Standard Time, we are back to a Maine Winter.
Against the driveway wall, hidden yet again, waiting still to once more be stirred into action, sit a color seeking the Sun.
As do fragrant blossoms 'bove silky plumes,
And on the front slope, fitfully slumbering, awaiting too the call, stout 'greens sheltering sweet tinkling bells...
Sugarplums no longer dance, nor prance down the halls of my head. Instead, visions of cool water lap upon the synapses of my mind.
The sunshine gleams so bright and warm,
The sky is blue and clear.
I run outdoors without a coat,
And spring is almost here.
Then before I know it,
Small clouds have blown together,
Till the sun just can't get through them
And again, it's mitten weather.Unknown writer… wish it were me.